Boolean me

A boolean variable can only have two values - yes/no, 1/0, true/false. I was thinking how boolean can we be when we're not dreaming, seeing things, meeting new people, listening to the world outside our world.

Mr Shima says he doesn't trust people without hobbies because passions are what keeps us alive. There should always be something. Fifteen-minutes-a-day of dreaming to find a new variable.... and then smile.

Alpha Male

I don't ask for much, I just ask for a Catholic guy of Lebanese background who has travelled more than me and has an opinion on most things.

We were playing yesterday on the road the 'what would be your dreamy match' and we girls could take anything: soccer fans, beer-addicts, unrefined individuals, and with some reserves, even mamma's boys. But guys were looking for slim, non-jealous, sweet, detached, independent girls. Not A, B, or C, but 'all of the above'.

I was thinking about the evolutionary theories and how the traits the alpha male was looking for in the lucky primate (or the primate who'd get lucky) were more physical and preservationary - now our alpha males look for a hot girl to brag about who can also fulfill their out-of-friends time (without asking for 'us' time).

So while McLebanese comes along, I plan to become an alpha female. Without reserves.

Todos los abrazos que te quiero dar

Mr Shima, no hay manera de que lo sepas, pero lo siento mucho, lo siento hoy, lo siento por ti y por los que lo querían, lo siento por no saber decir lo siento con la intensidad que me gustaría darle a tu corazón.

Y a fin de cuentas, reencarnación aparte, una vez es la que es, lo que importa son los que nos quedamos, y tú te quedas. Quisiera hacerte llorar o gritar o que dejes de ser el luminoso tú para que lo amargo se vaya de una vez y se quede él contigo como un recuerdo de atardeceres y de tú sabrás qué más.

¿Qué más puedo decirte? Pues inconstante y fuera de foco, pero aquí estoy. Y Borges vino también.

Lekker Ding

Te he visto unas 187 veces, todas detrás de la camara, qué conveniente, puedo echarte la culpa de este mareo existencial.

De cualquier manera, aún no sé si te quiero por ti o por lo que creo que eres, o en general si de verdad te quiero. Dice Kundera que uno nunca lo puede saber, porque no tenemos una vida pasada en la que reflexionar o una vida futura por la que luchar. Einmal ist keinmal, my friends.

Y puedes ser tú, de hecho, o el chico al otro lado del cuarto, que sólo me gusta por zurdo pero está aquí cuando yo también estoy (el lunes de regreso a la soledad de donde salió).

El amor no existe si sólo está de un lado del mar (del mío). El amor existe cuando no quieres dormir con alguien, sino dormir con el peso de una persona en toda la superficie de tu corazón.

Me pregunto cuántas fotos tomará...

'Excuse my French' - Life is like the movies (Part II)

There was this last night in Brussels when everybody had left. It was just some hours away from meeting Mike in A'dam (after two weeks of not having his laugh, his lips, his tenderness, the whole dream), and I had the head in the clouds while browsing through the places I wanted to visit that would for sure make him smile.

Maybe if I had known that the next night I was gonna say goodbye without looking back, I wouldn't have strolled around Ixchelles, maybe I wouldn't have looked like the sun and the stars together, maybe I would have just gone back home (the one across the Atlantic) that very night.

But there I was, in Ecco, eating fettuccine and thinking life was right like in the movies. The Italian waiter told me that it was a pity I was not having dessert, because the dessert chef wanted to do something special. Then there was Aimé, right out from the kitchen, there was me smiling, there was a broken French with Italian and English together, there was the manager asking if he was bothering me (non, c'est normal, merci), there was somebody who dared to do what I never do.

So I got an e-mail from him, and two days ago another one. I am not sure why I never wrote back. Aimé, please excuse my French, it is not enough to build the dream you think I am.

Zonen

Before having an opinion on a movie, some people read other's before watching or vice versa; in films as complicated as Boe's you might end up feeling left behind... and there are more questions in your head than the ones you woke up with.

So the things in my head before Christoffer Boe's 'Allegro' had to do with an upcoming trip to Panama, the kiddo, and how to cook an aubergine. After the movie, I was wondering if the infinite can bend towards the limits of itself, if I have 'a zone' inside of me, and how many times have I said: 'Do you know that I love you?' wanting to be believed.

'Allegro' feels a bit like Dogville meets the Twilight Zone. The perfectionism of a pianist with a crunchy-Swedish-sounding name (Zetterström) led him to forget his childhood and even the fact that he had found love (once). It happened that his past was not forgotten, but 'kidnapped'.

The mood of the movie reminded me of some Scandinavian traits I had troubles dealing with: the very-well-handled loneliness, the neglecting of their own impulses, and the very objective look at the world that removed many of its colours. What was personally shocking is that despite being not-used-to-well-handle loneliness, I have a box in the head where I put memories, years, people... and have troubles finding it from time to time.

So we should all be entitled not to waste time tip-toeing life and say as many jeg-elsker-digs as we please. I do believe we should love deeply again and again, fall and raise, and be allowed to display stupidity while pursuing happiness.

Oh, and about the movie - the quantum physics used to explain that the past of Zetterström was kidnapped stretched too much the reasonable, but made a nice metaphor in the end. This movie was not made to think about it, but to think about one-self. I've got my little black hole in the middle of the chest.